“But… what about you?” Makellos asked. While he did not know the full extent of his mother’s cruelty, he was sure that Hans failing to complete the task she had given him would result in something bad happening.
Hans shook his head. “I have served the Queen all of my life. I have watched you grow from a child into a man. A good man. Better than any I have ever known. Whatever the price of my disobedience, I will pay it, because I could not live with myself if I harmed you. I will do my best to hide the truth from her. Please, go. Run away and never come back!”
Makellos turned and began to flee into the trees. He glanced back just once to see Hans still on his knees, immobile as a statue, watching him, his knife still on the ground where he had dropped it. Then he turned back to the dimly lit forest and ran.
He ran as if the very devil were after him, faster than he had ever run in his life. The wind whistled in his ears, “Run! Hide! Run! Hide!” He ducked under tree branches, slipping on roots and bushes, his red cape tangling in a patch of briars. He ripped it free, and the enchanted fabric magically formed itself back together.
He didn’t know where he was going or how far he had run. He only knew that he must escape if he wanted to live. He had to find some place where his mother would not find him. Somewhere her eyes could not see and her magic could not reach. Around him, the forest grew darker and darker as the sun sank low in the sky, casting long, grasping shadows that twisted every which way. It was only when he couldn’t run any more, when his heart felt like it would explode in his chest and his lungs struggled for every breath, that he finally stopped.
He wasn’t sure what direction he was running now, and he could barely see anything. It was possible that in the dim lighthe could run into a low branch, or fall down a ravine. Or perhaps there were dangerous creatures here who might eat him, or worse, steal his soul. He didn’t think he was in the Dark Forest, but he had no way to know what differentiated the Dark Forest from the safer path.
He collapsed down onto the ground, sweat beading on his face and neck, his hands clenching in the leaves under him with a crunch. His eyes grew hot and heavy, and he allowed a few tears to fall. He often cried when he was on his own, but never in front of his mother, for she thought it unbecoming of a man to show such a tender-hearted emotion. He had certainly never seen her cry either. He sat, panting, wiping sweat from his brow and tears from his cheeks with his sleeve, the dampness fading quickly away and leaving his clothing its usual crisp white. He did not have his pack with any of his provisions, and he carried no weapons. He was really and truly alone in the forest.
He wrapped his red cape around himself as his exertion turned itself into an icy chill that sunk beneath his fancy clothes and into his bones. He didn’t dare move from his crumpled spot against a large tree, not getting a wink of sleep all night as he stared into the inky darkness.
It took a long time for the sun to rise high enough above the trees for him to see well enough to stand and search the area around him. He was so tired and cold and thirsty. He realized that he had very few survival skills, having spent most of his life being coddled and provided for in the palace. If he did not find some place to stay, he was guaranteed a much slower death thanthe blade would have been. Perhaps Hans’ mercy had not been a mercy at all.
He turned and headed in the direction he thought was south. He didn’t know much about the area beyond Falchovari, but he remembered from his lessons that to the south was a range of mountains and mines where jewels were extracted from the earth.
He came across a hedge of picked-over berries. It was the first edible thing he had seen in the forest that he knew of, so he set about plucking them and eating them as quickly as he could. Thorns scratched his skin, drawing little drops of blood. He wiped them on his shirt, the blood staining it crimson only for a moment before fading away. There were several footprints around the bush of some large animal. Perhaps a wolf or a bear? He had no idea, sure he did not want to encounter the creature, but water had accumulated in the prints. He scooped it out with his hands as best he could, swallowing the mouthfuls even though it gagged him. A prince of the kingdom, reduced to eating half-dead berries off the bush and drinking muddy water. But, he reminded himself, he was alive. And as long as he was alive, he had hope.
Hunger and thirst still clawed at his belly, but it was better than nothing. Perhaps he could distract himself from his discomfort with a song. He had always had a good singing voice, and he thought that maybe the sound of his voice would discourage any larger animals looking to make a morning meal out of him. So, he began to sing, softly at first, then a little louder as the sun warmed his chilled body. And, surprisingly, he did feel better the more he sang.
A soft rustle in the bushes made him jump, his head shooting up as fear filled his heart. Perhaps Hans had gathered his courage and changed his mind, pursuing him into the forest tohunt like a wild stag, easily following the sound of Makellos’ voice.
But instead of the dark-haired hunter, a squirrel hopped from the dark leaves. It was a rather large squirrel, a dusky gray color, with big, brown eyes and long whiskers. It tipped its head curiously at him, standing up on its hind feet, its tiny front paws up in front of it.
“Oh! Hello, little one,” Makellos said gently, lowering himself to one knee to look less foreboding. “Are you lost too?”
The squirrel tipped its head again before drifting to closer to him, its little nose quivering. Its eyes were wide, but it showed no fear as it approached.
“I don’t suppose you are lost the same way I am,” Makellos said. “This is your home, after all. You are quite a fine little fellow. You must be quite clever to have survived this long and grown so big.”
The squirrel continued to slowly walk toward him on his four little paws, almost silent over the forest floor, until he stopped right by the prince’s boot, staring up at him. Makellos gave him a small smile. He figured that being a squirrel must be much simpler than being a man, though he was sure the danger was greater for something so small and wild. “I am Makellos,” he said, giving the squirrel a nod. The squirrel’s fluffy tail snapped in what seemed to be acknowledgement. “I feel rather bad that I do not know your name,” Makellos said. “Perhaps I could give you one?”
The squirrel’s nose twitched.
“May I call you Buschig? For your bushy tail?”
The little nose twitched again.
“A pleasure then to meet you, Herr Buschig,” Makellos said, giving him a polite bow of his head.
Buschig stared back at him before bobbing his own tiny, pointed head a few times in return. Evidently, the introductionpleased him. Makellos smiled in delight. It was nice to have a friend here.
“I don’t know what to do. I’m all alone out here. I have always had servants to take care of my needs. I’m afraid I don’t know the first thing about surviving in a forest like you. Would you know of somewhere I can go?”
Buschig cocked his head to one side, nose twitching, before he turned and scampered into the trees. Makellos watched him go, still kneeling on the cool ground. The squirrel had almost darted out of sight before he turned around, looked straight at Makellos, and came scurrying back. He stopped by his boot again, sitting up on his hind legs, and began to chitter at him.
“Oh, do you want me to follow you?” Makellos asked.
Buschig turned and scampered a few paces, then turned back to look at him. Makellos got to his feet, brushing off the leaves that stuck to him, the dirt fading away. He began to follow after the squirrel, who ran ahead a few dozen paces, then stopped and turned to wait for him to catch up before hurrying on ahead again. Makellos followed the squirrel through the dense underbrush. Buschig was fast, but he always stopped and waited for Makellos to catch up before dashing ahead again.
The prince was starting to see more wildlife again too. Birds twittered in the trees, echoing back the sound when he whistled at them. Rabbits poked twitchy noses out of bushes. Other squirrels and chipmunks dashed about, chasing one another through the trees. He even saw a doe and her fawn sliding through the trees a little way off. Any time he sang a few notes, the creatures would stop and stare at him. A few joined Buschig in leading the way through the forest, giving Makellos an even easier lead to follow.
They continued this walk for most of the day before they came within sight of a creek. The sun was sinking again when Buschig suddenly ran around a large tree and disappeared from sight asthe other animals dispersed into the nearby foliage. Makellos followed after Buschig and discovered that the roots of the tree formed a little covered hollow in the earth. Buschig sat inside the little cavern, chittering softly. Next to him was another large squirrel and three smaller squirrels whose eyes were not open and whose fur was only starting to grow in. Makellos knelt down to peer into the root hollow and smiled. “Is this your family?” he asked Buschig.
Buschig flipped his tail and made some soft noises. Makellos bowed his head at the other squirrel. “Hello, Frau Buschig. Your babies are beautiful.”
